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Knowing that remark was uncalled for, Raven shrugged impatiently. “He was the one who wanted to prove something, not me.”
“From the looks of him, the fight was scarcely one-sided.”
“Would you have preferred I not defend myself? I would have sworn you told me you didn’t want to be widowed twice.”
“My father tried to kill you?” Eden scoffed in disbelief.
Raven reached for the doorknob, “Do you want to ask him about it?”
Certain he had been correct that her father would prefer privacy to her company, Eden turned away and started back down the stairs. “There’s no point in bothering him,” she replied flippantly. “Had he wanted you dead, you would be.”
Raven thought she was probably right. Nathan had not wanted him dead, though, merely aware of the fact he would defend his daughter aggressively should she ever need it, which
Raven was certain she would not. That he had asked Eden to help him bathe had apparently escaped her notice, and that annoyed him. First she had been concerned about Alex, and now her father. Wasn’t she ever going to have time for him?
By the time Raven was ready for bed, Eden was sound asleep. She had lowered the mosquito netting to form a cozy cocoon around the bed and her expression was one of sweet contentment rather than the anger he had expected. That she had chosen to sleep in her own room rather than his only added to the blackness of his mood, however.
Where his mind had been he didn’t know, but he had not once considered the possibility that his beautiful bride might not have a healthy child. He had expected her to have a fine son, a bright-eyed boy who would follow him around as he had once tagged along after Alex.
What if the little fellow were pale and weak instead? Eden would be devoted to the child. He knew that without question. She would pamper the baby, and blame herself if he did not survive. She would feel that she had failed Alex too. That was something else Raven knew for certain and he did not know how he could spare her the anguish of that unwarranted guilt.
God help him, he had wanted Eden for his wife and had taken her, but he had never imagined she would already be pregnant. Nor had he dreamed that her expected babe would be other than the picture of health. If only Eden loved him. He was certain that while it would be terrible indeed, they could overcome the sorrow of losing their first child and have others if Eden loved him. The problem was, she did not.
Eden awakened to find Raven looking down at her. Even through the fine mesh of the mosquito netting she could make out his expression. That he appeared to be on the verge of tears alarmed her badly. Sitting up, she parted the netting and reached out to take his hand.
“Oh Raven, I never stopped to think you might be hurt. If Daddy hurt you, I’ll—”
When she paused to think of a suitably horrible punishment, Raven began to smile. “I’m not hurt, just disgusted you’re in the wrong bed.”
It had not been disgust Eden had seen, but an emotion far more poignant. Saddened that he would not confide in her, she let the matter drop rather than challenge him on it. “You had no time this afternoon, and there were no servants to put away your things. My room is in good order, though, so I thought you’d prefer to use it tonight.”
“Really?”
“You gave me a key, Raven. Was my door locked?” Raven turned to glance back over his shoulder. Not only had the connecting door between their rooms not been locked, it had been standing wide open, and he had had to step over several valises to reach it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly as he began to remove the clean clothes she had brought him.
“After I left you, I got to thinking,” Eden revealed as she studied the muscular contours of his body with an appreciative glance. “I’ve seen boys get into awful fights, and then become the best of friends. While I think that’s an exceedingly stupid way to make friends, if that’s what it took for you and my father to reach an understanding, I’ll not say another word about it.”
Raven was soon undressed, and joined her in bed. “I’ll agree, not only is fighting a stupid way to make friends, it’s also quite painful.”
“Then you are hurt?”
Eden looked so alarmed by that possibility, Raven’s smile grew wide. Maybe she didn’t love him as deeply as he would like, but she did care at least a little for him. “Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms. “I think I know how to make the pain go away.”
With the first brush of his lips against hers, Eden realized he could not possibly be in much pain and she was glad she was no longer angry with him. It would have been impossible to stay mad at him anyway, her conscience reminded her, for she had never been able to concentrate on anything but pleasure when she was in his arms.
Downstairs, Yadira walked slowly through the darkened rooms, the candle she carried providing an eerie light. She paused here and there, remembering the times the house and been filled with Alex’s laughter. She had known he did not have long to live, but she had expected him to die there, in her arms, not in far-off England. She felt doubly cheated that not only had she lost him, she had also lost the chance to share his last hours. How precious those would have been to her.
When she reached his portrait, she placed the candle on the mantel beneath it. She would leave one burning there each night, as a reminder he would never be forgotten. She was certain Raven and his bride were too lost in each other to remember Alex, but he was the only man she had ever loved, and she would keep his memory alive forever.
Chapter Eighteen
September 1863
Eden awakened first the next morning. While she was accustomed to falling asleep in Raven’s arms, she could not recall ever awaking there and it was a most enjoyable surprise. The whole length of his sleek body was cuddled snugly against her. After delighting in his comforting warmth for a long moment, she moved over slightly, propped her head on her hand, and took advantage of a rare opportunity to study the handsome young man while he slept.
In repose, his thick curls and long lashes lent his face a boyish quality that was quite endearing. Eden could not resist the temptation to touch his jet black hair, but afraid she might wake him, she drew her hand back quickly. She had not noticed the bruise on his right cheek, nor the cut that sliced through his brow, when he had come to bed. The perfect symmetry of his features was scarcely marred, but she felt a sharp stab of sorrow nonetheless. Fearing he had suffered other injuries as well, she peeled the sheet away to scan his shoulder and arm. Not only did she find numerous bruises, which she was certain were precisely the size of her father’s fist, but cuts and scrapes as well.
